Emmett. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ life and the office were suddenly empty.

      She closed up precisely at 5:00 p.m. and went by the grocery store to get enough for the weekend, which was just beginning. Thanksgiving Day had been quiet and lonely. She’d had a turkey breast, but she and Alistair had finished it off for supper the night before. So she bought ground beef for hamburgers and a small beef roast and vegetables to make stew and, later, soup. She lived on a budget, which meant that she bypassed steak and frozen éclairs. She would have loved to indulge her taste for both. Maybe someday, she thought wistfully…

      She fed Alistair, her big marmalade tabby, and then made herself a light supper. She ate it with little enthusiasm. Then she curled up with Alistair on the sofa to watch a movie on television. During the last scene, a very interesting standoff between a murderer and the police, the telephone started ringing. She grimaced, hating the interruption. If she answered it, she’d surely miss the end of the movie she’d been watching for two hours. She ignored it at first. The only people who ever telephoned her were people who were selling things. But whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. It stopped, briefly, only to start ringing insistently again. This time she was afraid not to answer it. It might be Kit or Logan or Tansy or even her brother.

      She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

      “Is this Miss Melody Cartman?” a crisp, professional voice asked.

      “Yes.”

      “I’m Nurse Willoughby. We have a Mr. Emmett Deverell here at city general hospital with a massive concussion. He’s only just regained consciousness. He gave us your name and asked us to call and have you pick up his children at the Mellenger Hotel.”

      Melody stood frozen in place. The only thing that registered was that Emmett was hurt and she’d become a babysitter. She could hardly say no or argue. Concussions were terribly dangerous.

      “The children are…where?”

      “At the Mellenger Hotel. Room three hundred and something. He’s very foggy at the moment and in a great deal of pain.”

      “He will be all right?” Melody asked, hating herself for being concerned.

      “We hope so,” came the crisp reply.

      “Tell him that I’ll look after the children,” she said.

      “Very well.”

      The phone went dead before she could ask another question. She stared around her like someone in a trance. Where in the world was she going to put three renegade children, one of whom hated her? And how long was she going to have them?

      For one insane moment, she thought about calling Adell and Randy, but she dismissed that idea at once. Emmett would never forgive her. At the moment, he deserved a little consideration, she supposed.

      She got her coat and took a cab to the hotel. It was very late to be driving around Houston, and her little car was unreliable in wet weather. Houston was notorious for flooding, and the rain was coming down steadily now.

      She asked at the desk for Emmett’s room number, quickly explaining the circumstances to a sympathetic desk clerk after giving Emmett’s condition and the hospital’s number, so that management could check her story if they felt the need to. In fact, they did, and she didn’t blame them. These days, one simply couldn’t turn over three children to a total stranger who might or might not intend them harm.

      When she got to the hotel room, there were muffled sounds from within. Melody, who knew the kids all too well, knocked briefly but firmly on the door.

      There was a sudden silence, followed by a scuffle and a wail. The door flew open and a matronly lady with frazzled hair almost fell on Melody with relief.

      “Are you their mother?” the elderly woman asked. “I’m Mrs. Johnson. Here they are, safe and sound, my fee will be added to the hotel bill. You are their mother?”

      “Well, no,” she began.

      “Oh, my God!”

      “I’m to take charge of them,” Melody added, because it looked as if the woman might be preparing to have a heart attack on the spot.

      A wavery smile replaced the horror on the woman’s lined face. “Then I’ll just be off. Good night!”

      “Chicken,” Amy muttered, peering around Melody to watch the woman’s incredibly fast retreat.

      “What have you three been up to?” Melody asked, glaring at them.

      “Nothing at all, Melody, dear,” Amy said sweetly, and grinned.

      “She just wasn’t used to kids, I guess,” Polk added. He grinned, too.

      Behind them there were the remains of two foam-filled pillows and what appeared to be the ropes that closed the heavy curtains.

      “We had a pillow fight,” Amy explained.

      “And then we went skiing in the bathroom,” Polk said.

      Melody could barely see the bathroom. The door was ajar and the floor seemed to be soaked. She was beginning to understand her predecessor’s agile retreat. Days and days…of this. She wouldn’t have an apartment left! And all because she felt sorry for a man who had to be her worst enemy.

      “Why are you here?” Guy asked belligerently. “Where’s Dad?”

      That brought her back to her original purpose for being there. Emmett’s accident.

      She sat down on the sofa, tossing her purse beside her, while she struggled to find the right words to tell them.

      “Something’s happened,” Guy said when he saw her face. He stiffened. “What?”

      Even at such a young age, he was already showing signs of great inner strength, of ability to cope with whatever life threw at him. Amy and Polk looked suddenly vulnerable, but not Guy.

      “Your father has a brain concussion,” Melody told them. “He’s conscious now, but in a lot of pain. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a day or so. Meanwhile, he wants you to come home with me.”

      “He hates you,” Guy said coldly. “Why would he want us to stay with you?”

      “Because I’m all you’ve got,” Melody replied. “Unless you’d rather I called the juvenile authorities…?”

      Guy’s massive self-confidence failed. He shrugged and turned away.

      Amy climbed onto Melody’s lap and clung. “Our daddy will be all right, won’t he?” she asked tearfully.

      “Of course he will,” Melody assured her, gathering her close. “He’s very tough. It will take more than a concussion to keep him down.”

      “Yes, it will,” Polk said. He turned away because his lower lip was trembling.

      “Let’s get your things together and go,” Melody said. “Have you had something to eat?”

      “We had pizza and chocolate sundaes.”

      Melody СКАЧАТЬ